Sentiment
by incandescent 3 6 0
Summary: People put true thought into their actions more often than you'd think. Aspirations and emotions burn deep inside their hearts – very deep. *character drabble series* *vote for the next character*
1. Bubbles

**Title -** Sentiment (Alternatively "That Feeling")

**Summary -** People put deep thought into their actions more often than you'd think. Aspirations and emotions burn deep inside their hearts – very deep.

**Pairing(s) -** none. unless you'd like to count one-sided/implied relations and situations.

**Rating -** K+

**Status -** Drabble; Ongoing; Series

**Important Notes -** so this is basically my complexities and dynamics behind the fanon characters that are normally written in the Powerpuff fandom.

_[if anyone wants a specific character to be written next, just suggest the character in your review. the character with the most (or first, if no one is mentioned twice) mentions will be written.]_

bubbles is going first because she's adorable.

**Disclaimer -** i do not own The Powerpuff Girls.

**XXX**

**Bubbles**

There was something about the way the brush splashed the cerulean paint onto the canvas, mixing and combining with the swirls of yellows and reds and pretty purples. It made her feel something – something she could not explain to save her life. She just felt it. It was in those moments that she created a picture within her fickle mind, embedded it to the very front of her memory, and put it on that canvas like it _belonged_ to her.

And yes, it did belong to her.

How was it that she found this passion? She truly didn't know. Perhaps she was simply born with it. It was indescribable; the swell of emotion that pulsated within her as she painted. Yes, charcoal and waterpaint were nice alternatives. But that's all they were. Nice. Nothing is as bold as saturated paint that stains everything in its wake as deeply as blood. It didn't fade. The colors, those pretty colors that reminded her so much of happiness and joy, it was something she could never replace.

And that feeling. It was as if, when she painted, she meant something. She mattered to the world. No, she would not be known for any girlish stupidity or foolish sensitivity, she would be known for her marvelous talent. The talent to create beauty.

Yes, she had more substance to her than a short, ditzy little blonde. She held the power of creation and imagery in her cramped, rainbow stained hands.

That very feeling; it gave her the giggles that threatened her sanity. The dazing colors, the madness of the mixture, the perfection that was her handmade work, the swirls on the canvas that burned all the stars of the galaxy into her eyes and took a whole lot of blood, sweat, and tears to spill onto the blank tarp like tears rolling down her cheeks – it was her heart.

She had painted her heart.

**XXX**


	2. Boomer

**Status -** Drabble; Ongoing; Series

**Important Notes -** so this is basically my complexities and dynamics behind the fanon characters that are normally written in the Powerpuff fandom.

_[if anyone wants a specific character to be written next, just suggest the character in your review. the character with the most (or first, if no one is mentioned twice) mentions will be written.]_

**Disclaimer -** i do not own The Powerpuff Girls.

**XXX**

**Boomer**

He didn't know why he was given such a limited capability. The way words tumbled out of his mouth – not on whim, but on impulse – surprised even himself. He couldn't stop. He just knew that _one day_ the words that forced their way out of his throat would make some sort of sense, and that it would bring shock to those around him. But still, he couldn't make it out.

His mind couldn't compile a single logical thought, and he didnt know why. Every sign he looked at, every book he tried to read – the words...It all seemed like a foreign language to him. Every 'd' appeared to be a 'b' and every 'm' was a 'w'. All the words...scribbling nonsensical paragraphs with vague implications he couldn't comprehend.

It hurt him, really. It gave him this throbbing feeling that wouldn't go away. And, before he knew it, after trying so hard to read the scribbles before him, his eyebrows would contort in anger and his lip would curl and he felt the tears wetting his face and dripping onto the page, smudging the ink. Somehow that image looked more familiar.

He'd seen that imperfection his entire life.

But then, he found a calling. Dazzled by the shiny, slick figures in the window of the music store, he wandered in and that was the beginning of a new era. They made such beautiful sounds, and he could make them even more beautiful with the way he plucked the strings of the acoustic guitar and angrily smacked the sticks on the drums and let his fingers glide effortlessly across the piano. There was no need to memorize any stupid notes. The sounds were all he needed.

Left and right, what came before what – they didn't get mixed up with him this time. He felt his own notes, his very own symphony, a rhythm that thumped in sync with the beat of his heart. Sometimes it made him cry, but in the _best way_.

Music was all he had. It was the only thing that made sense to him. Well, not the _only_ thing...

And one day, as he pulled out a guitar from a storage closet in the band room and made his way to the hall while classmates were already beginning to flood into the building, he sat down, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes, running his hands along the neck of the guitar and hoping that a short blonde girl would hear the harmonic melody he'd created that encased the corrider.

**XXX**


	3. Buttercup

**Status -** Drabble; Ongoing; Series

**Important Notes -** so this is basically my complexities and dynamics behind the fanon characters that are normally written in the Powerpuff fandom.

_[if anyone wants a specific character to be written next, just suggest the character in your review. the character with the most (or first, if no one is mentioned twice) mentions will be written.]_

**Disclaimer -** i do not own The Powerpuff Girls.

**XXX**

**Buttercup**

It was the blankness in his eyes when he said it. When he named her for the first time. The sheer, unmasked uncertainty and simplicity of the name, having put absolutely no thought into it – that was what he named her. She watched her sisters, saw how happy and giggly and outgoing they were, and thought maybe if she smiled a bit more, if she brightened her eyes just a bit, he'd put severe thought into what would be her name.

_Buttercup._

An utter disappointment.

At that very moment, that moment when he shrugged his shoulders and her smile faded into nothingness, she knew she wasn't special. Not special enough for her father and creator. But she wouldn't cry. She _refused_ to cry. No, no, no – that would mean that she was similar to her _dear, beloved_ sisters. The sisters with everything they could possibly want. The love, the beauty, the easy-going personalities. Those were all the things she did not have, that she'd _never_ have.

She hid those dry tears behind a scowl. Her sisters were weak. She would never, ever want to be anything like them. They were spoiled and cocky. Even moreso, what with their _stupid _special powers.

Why didn't she have a special power? It was as if the universe had seen how little she meant to her family, _to the town_, and believed it to be true to form. So she was granted no special powers.

But...there was a special _ability._

The tongue curling was a moment of rejoice in her bitter and angry world. She'd never been happier than to know that there was something special about her, that there was something about her that people would marvel amongst.

But no, she could never let anyone know that this was how she truly felt. She didn't deserve to be pitied, nor did she _want_ it. She was ugly, she was ordinarily boring, and she was unimportant. All this was what she considered the hard, cold truth. She wasn't incredibly intelligent and cunning like the leader of their team, or stunningly beautiful and gracious like their youngest sister.

She was the brawns of the three. The muscle. Not only that, but the dark, scary girl that everyone secretly feared. The girl that tried so very hard to live up to her good name, to stop the evil and jealousy from enveloping her heart – for she could feel her veins growing colder as the years passed on and on. She could only take so much of this pain.

One day her heart will stop beating for the love she so truly feels for her family. One day she'll take none of this anymore. One day she'll make a change, and do something really _special_.

And that day is that day that she will finally stop being _Buttercup._

**XXX**


	4. Blossom

**Status -** Drabble; Ongoing; Series

**Important Notes -** so this is basically my complexities and dynamics behind the fanon characters that are normally written in the Powerpuff fandom.

_[if anyone wants a specific character to be written next, just suggest the character in your review. the character with the most (or first, if no one is mentioned twice) mentions will be written.]_

**Disclaimer -** i do not own The Powerpuff Girls.

**XXX**

**Blossom**

She'd always held an interest in learning.

It's amazing to her, honestly, knowing that there are billions of things that she doesn't know right now and somehow it drives her to learn about it, and make sure she doesn't _forget_ it. Her mind circulated with all this knowledge, soaking it in like a dry sponge desperate for water.

But this had escalated into something out of her control before she could even comprehend the situation.

She had been so sure of herself in her earliest years. By the time she was seven years old, she'd had the intelligence of a straight-A eighth grade student. It was at that time that she was put up to the highest of expectations. She'd learned her lesson once, earning the score of a B minus, and seeing how disappointed her father looked and how he said to her, "I know you can do better than this."

But she was just a little girl. She makes mistakes. And no matter the formula of her solution, she was, indeed, _not_ the ideal child. And the wretched shame that built up in her system, that horrid feeling burning at the pit of her stomach, taught her one thing – _never, ever accept anything short of perfection._

She was the role model of the town. The picture perfect daughter. She couldn't reveal the heavy weight that crushed down on her shoulders, nor the tears she shed into her pillow when her sisters were fast asleep. For if she did, rejection would come faster than a swing to the face. And her father; she couldn't see that disappointment again. Never again.

If she ever failed once more..._No_. That was not happening. There was no way in _hell_ she would risk losing all that she had for some insignificant emotions.

She liked being looked up to, being the oldest, the most mature of her team, and she liked being the smartest. And as a leader, she should not give in to temptation. She must stand tall, push her pesky emotions to the side, and look fear in the face with not an ounce of hesitation.

Yes, the popular belief was that she was the all knowing child, the prodigy of the generation, the one who wouldn't ever falter.

But the one thing she did _not _know...was how long she could hold the world above her before it all came crashing down.

**XXX**


	5. Brick

**Status -** Drabble; Ongoing; Series

**Important Notes -** so this is basically my complexities and dynamics behind the fanon characters that are normally written in the Powerpuff fandom.

_[if anyone wants a specific character to be written next, just suggest the character in your review. the character with the most (or first, if no one is mentioned twice) mentions will be written.]_

**Disclaimer -** i do not own The Powerpuff Girls.

**XXX**

**Brick**

He'd had enough.

All the years, piled on top of one another, over and over and over again...

Nothing but defeat.

_Hate, hate, hate_ – That was all he knew. He'd never learned more than just that. His ambition was recognized at birth.

Destruction. Anger. _Innate hatred._

His mind was a machine, cluttered about with thunkering gears and gismos that spun like windmills in his head. It's all he ever was. A machine. A machine powered by the thunderous and rocky coal that fueled his hatred, blazing a rippling, furious fire in the atmosphere whenever it was thrown into his boiler.

The one tossing the chunks of blackened and dusty coal into his very core, watching the sparkling flames with a twinkle of triumph in her abnormally cherise eyes – she was the source of his hatred. She made him erupt with a passioned irritation that no one else could ever possibly ignite. Only _her_. Only _she_ could make his insides twist and turn with the simplest of cocky smiles, could make him growl like a feral beast, could make him feel something he'd never felt before...

She made him feel a feeling that he'd never once felt.

Well, actually, it was more than one feeling – both of which he was uneducated with.

One of those was a fear so heartwrenching and dreadful that it caused the gears in his mind that worked his limbic system to freeze over. Pretty white ice coated his feelings, turning him into a lost, bitter, stoic being who refused to feel.

No, for he would _never_ let himself feel ever again. Never.

That emotion was too dangerous to be handled, too strong. Much stronger than hatred. And when he had felt it, those gears and gismos were melting – _melting_ purely from its intensity. So it was decided; he would freeze himself over. It was the only way to stop that feeling.

And yet, he couldn't help but notice...the ice that blanketed his heart glittered such a familiar sparkle.

**XXX**


	6. Butch

**Status -** Drabble; Ongoing; Series

**Important Notes -** this is sbj's butch.

i also think that butch would have a similar problem to buttercup regarding his significance...

_[if anyone wants a specific character to be written next, just suggest the character in your review. the character with the most (or first, if no one is mentioned twice) mentions will be written.]_

**Disclaimer -** i do not own The Powerpuff Girls.

**XXX**

**Butch**

What he lacked in intelligence he made up in energy and strength. This stayed with him into adulthood, when he'd learned that not everything was as simple as he'd once thought it'd been. Try as he might, he couldn't quite put all the pieces of this dark puzzle together, but the ones he'd managed – those were the real mysteries.

When he grew into a man – if one was so courteous as to call him so – that's when he wrecked his mind for a better understanding of the world around him. It was so big. He was so small compared to the entirety of the planet, even to the city of Townsville, for God's sake. He felt like dirt. And although he'd been neutral to the idea in his earlier youth, now it just felt like someone was ripping his insides apart and shoving the dismembered remains down his throat.

He had to be better. He had to be extraordinary.

_He had to be special._

His purpose in life to destroy those annoying bratty girls was well over forgotten by now. He wished that it wasn't. He needed to prove himself somehow, he needed an excuse. When he robbed a bank or crashed into a museum alone, he hoped to the heavens above that the hotline still rang and that girl would come and fight him. That girl, as small and dainty as she appeared to be, held a vicious punch that was the answer to his problem. Only this girl, not her doltish sisters. They were far too fickle and merciful.

No, this girl was ruthless. Her eyes possessed a hatred so fierce and so furious, it made him giddy. The passion in her blindingly bright eyes was what kept him coming for more. He couldn't possibly destroy her. No, for if he did, he would be lost. He would have no reason to be _alive_. If she were to perish suddenly at his hands, he would go about his life a fraud. A haughty coward who wanted to finish his business and emerge unscathed.

He couldn't do that. He was something powerful, he was a _god_. But it wasn't enough to know that himself, no, everyone in his wake was to be informed of his power. And that small, armful girl was the one that granted his trophies and medals and ribbons in the form of bruises and open wounds. He reveled in the pain, watching the blood drip with a bittersweet smile perched upon his face. A feeling was aroused within him, one that made the adrenaline rush through his veins and twitched his muscles uncontrollably.

He would never give that up.

**XXX**


	7. Princess Morbucks

**Status -** drabble; ongoing; series

**Important Notes -** yep. princess was my personal favorite to write. THANK YOU

**Disclaimer -** i do not own The Powerpuff Girls.

**XXX**

**Princess**

They couldn't understand. They could never understand. No, it would take every fiber in their being to understand.

She just wanted to be loved. That's all she ever wanted. That's why she always dressed up so pretty, so shiny. After all, people love beautiful things, don't they? And that's when she, herself, didn't understand.

They said no.

But she was beautiful. That should have given her an automatic pass to the love she so rightfully deserved and wanted. That she so desperately _needed_. She wanted to be like them. She wanted to be special and powerful and pretty like them. She wanted the admiration that she first felt when she walked into that mucky classroom and saw their sunlit smiles and powers that defied all laws of physics.

But they said _no_.

And they'd planted the seed of rage and envy deep inside her.

She just wanted to be their friend. She wanted to be their friend when her father warded her off with a stack of money, and when the kids at school avoided her pathway because her clothes blinded their eyes, and when she spent her Christmas alone, sitting underneath the glowing, fifty foot tall, artificial tree littered with effervescent ornaments, and when she found herself crying as she fell asleep and praying someone would tell her they loved her.

But she never had that.

Her heart was darkening with every day that she saw them in all their glory, their fame. She was beautiful, but this heart of hers had died – a supernova that catalyzed a black hole to pull and annihilate every last shred of sympathetic emotion that ever lived inside her. Her exterior was a pleasant sight to behold, but she was shallow and empty inside. Much like the mansion that her father rarely seemed to come home to.

This...This was all _their _fault.

And they would _pay_ oh so dearly for ripping her dreams to pieces.

_They would all pay._


	8. Professor Utonium

**Status -** drabble; ongoing; series

**Important Notes -** the newest, long awaited chapter of Sentiment (woohoo). i've been going through a really tough time, so please forgive me.

this might be longer than most drabbles btw.

**Disclaimer -** i do not own the Powerpuff Girls.

**XXX**

**Professor Utonium**

It was the day he woke up to a house engulfed in complete and utter silence that he realized he was alone.

The day that the room felt cold, empty, unwelcoming.

He'd always been alone, yes, and one would believe it righteous to assume that he should be accostomed to his lifestyle by now.

But that assumption was wrong.

He trudges down the stairs, the breeze of the autumn wind breaking in through the opened window. He plops down in a seat at the dining table, exhausted despite his full night's rest. The coffee does little to warm him up.

He remembered days like that. Days where he came home to head straight to the lab. Nothing to stop for. No _one_ to stop for. And those days, he would recall his childhood, being shoved into foster homes, one after the other, and when the parents would finally have their biologically born child, he was dumped back into the system. Those days, his tears would blur his vision and his clenched fists would crack the glass of his testing tube.

He looked at the small tube through his tear stained goggles, scrutinizing the tiny imperfection that threatened his safety if used. He could not continue the experiment. The tube would explode, and break into thousands of shards. It had to be disposed of.

He tossed it in the trash compactor and replaced it with a new one, shiny and unbroken.

Years later, he dares to try the experiment again.

His hands slips and he accidentally drops the testing tube, but a hand from below catches it.

"Careful, Professor! You could've broken it," a girl scolds, frowning at him with stern, rose colored eyes. He smiles and apologizes, receiving the tube to place it on the bunsen burner.

Another girl, floating above all the intricately laced chemicals and compounds, says, "So what'll this experiment do?" He tells her it's not much of an experiment as it is a simple reaction test. She giggles with excitement and flies to his side.

A third girl, sitting crossed legged on the table, pouts, disappointed. "I thought we were gonna see explosions!" she complained. He says that she should be patient, and she moues in return, hovering over and perching herself upon his shoulder to watch.

He turns the flame on and they watch intently for a reaction to occur. The heat pulsates within the substance; it's too much for the chemical to bear. It bubbles out profusely, expanding, spilling its globbery contents over the edge as the four jerk away quickly. It drips onto the table and singes into the metal of the bunsen burner. After a few seconds, the subtance hardens, becoming flaky, leaving hollow, crispy bubbles on it surface.

He looks at his girls, his beautiful little girls, and sees their looks of amazement and slight confusion. He sighs, content.

The testing tube sizzles, leaving a satisfying, charred scent in the air.

**END**

_happy late halloween! feel free to tell me about your costume if you choose to review!_


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